Little green band.
I think it's funny how you address your parents, more than possibly anyone else, by the way they are related to you, rather than for them. My dad turned 55 yesterday and I'm suffering the consequences of the rather inordinate amounts of yummy pineapple cake with Angry Birds icing. Other than the green pig, I am not particularly fond of the merchandise. Or for that matter, any. Neither do I understand the fascination with labels any more. But maybe that's just me, in my delirious state of sugar-highness, overtly calm and adequately happy, followed by an occasional rush of blood to the head.
To distract myself from the re-runs of shows with redundant content, I am toying with a neon green translucent rubber band. The way it is coiling and curving into a complex network of shapes is damn entertaining. So much for a small piece of plastic looped twice between my middle finger and thumb, and I already have infinity between my fingers.
I am beginning to harbour a great fondness for it, this small band, and I think I should probably stop pushing its limits to a point where it snaps. Is that not what people do in love? Put the object of their desires even before themselves, to an extent where they are okay with being hurt? I hardly think so. For, if someone were truly in love, they would not even realize that they were hurting. They'd just chill in the other person's happiness. Or maybe they have the confidence that no amount of hurt can match up to the capacities of enduring and healing love.
I've decided to go ahead and try it anyway. Designing swanky spirals against the force of the stiffening band, while physics is being the ultimate mood-kill. The band is starting to dig into my skin now, leaving behind impressions. My sister would be so disappointed that I don't keep my hands supple enough. When the commercials talk of the seemingly-mythical notion of "early ageing", I assure you, they are talking about me. I can imagine my sister taunting me that enough moisturising would help in situations as such. Then again, she would be looking at my affair with the band as if I were nuts.
Anyway, the band is really starting to lean up and struggling to breathe against the fight I am putting up. Pull-loop, pull-loop over on and again, this is really engaging. Maybe I should stop now and keep it for when I am bored to death in a line somewhere. Damn, make me stop before it..SNAP!
To distract myself from the re-runs of shows with redundant content, I am toying with a neon green translucent rubber band. The way it is coiling and curving into a complex network of shapes is damn entertaining. So much for a small piece of plastic looped twice between my middle finger and thumb, and I already have infinity between my fingers.
I am beginning to harbour a great fondness for it, this small band, and I think I should probably stop pushing its limits to a point where it snaps. Is that not what people do in love? Put the object of their desires even before themselves, to an extent where they are okay with being hurt? I hardly think so. For, if someone were truly in love, they would not even realize that they were hurting. They'd just chill in the other person's happiness. Or maybe they have the confidence that no amount of hurt can match up to the capacities of enduring and healing love.
I've decided to go ahead and try it anyway. Designing swanky spirals against the force of the stiffening band, while physics is being the ultimate mood-kill. The band is starting to dig into my skin now, leaving behind impressions. My sister would be so disappointed that I don't keep my hands supple enough. When the commercials talk of the seemingly-mythical notion of "early ageing", I assure you, they are talking about me. I can imagine my sister taunting me that enough moisturising would help in situations as such. Then again, she would be looking at my affair with the band as if I were nuts.
Anyway, the band is really starting to lean up and struggling to breathe against the fight I am putting up. Pull-loop, pull-loop over on and again, this is really engaging. Maybe I should stop now and keep it for when I am bored to death in a line somewhere. Damn, make me stop before it..SNAP!
And it's gone.
In all my dramatic glory, I realized more than one thing through this.
Even though it was the rubber band that snapped, it snapped against my fingers and caused me striking pain, more than I would have ever imagined. Physics is a bitch and my fingers are flaming. The world does complete in a full circle and no effect for a cause can remain insulated. But even the stinging pain does not stir my head as this other realization.
I did not recognize the importance of the band when I was merrily in jest with it. As most people might think, not even after the band came apart.
You do not think too much about something that you consider to acquire naturally. And well, you really shouldn't. Neither should it take losing something, for you to realize its worth. That would only be lamenting. Stressing over something that is lost is quite pointless. Well, you have lost it. The worst that could have possibly happened, has. So might as well suck it up, accept it, move on and try not to be ridiculous.
I think the realization hit during the pinnacle of rush, when I knew I was going to lose the band and it was something actually worth losing, the split second before it snapped. That is when the best, most important things are realized. When they start to slip away from your grasp, the consciousness of it and the impossibility of salvage, an attempt in vain . I guess that is why people love to live on the edge, to an extent of being stupid. To put the most precious things of their lives, sometimes even their lives, at stake for the adrenaline, the purest form of passion, for a time that slows down, the complete loss of control and their desperate attempt at reaching out after it.
In all my dramatic glory, I realized more than one thing through this.
Even though it was the rubber band that snapped, it snapped against my fingers and caused me striking pain, more than I would have ever imagined. Physics is a bitch and my fingers are flaming. The world does complete in a full circle and no effect for a cause can remain insulated. But even the stinging pain does not stir my head as this other realization.
I did not recognize the importance of the band when I was merrily in jest with it. As most people might think, not even after the band came apart.
You do not think too much about something that you consider to acquire naturally. And well, you really shouldn't. Neither should it take losing something, for you to realize its worth. That would only be lamenting. Stressing over something that is lost is quite pointless. Well, you have lost it. The worst that could have possibly happened, has. So might as well suck it up, accept it, move on and try not to be ridiculous.
I think the realization hit during the pinnacle of rush, when I knew I was going to lose the band and it was something actually worth losing, the split second before it snapped. That is when the best, most important things are realized. When they start to slip away from your grasp, the consciousness of it and the impossibility of salvage, an attempt in vain . I guess that is why people love to live on the edge, to an extent of being stupid. To put the most precious things of their lives, sometimes even their lives, at stake for the adrenaline, the purest form of passion, for a time that slows down, the complete loss of control and their desperate attempt at reaching out after it.
I'll just put the band in my pocket, carry it with me wherever I go, re-discover it and lapse into fond memory of the band-that-amused-me-the-evening-my-dad-was-fifty-five-years-and-one-day-old.
All this over a rubber band? It is not the sugar talking, I promise!
What pseudo-intellectualism, using inanimate everyday objects metaphorically in a bid to be semi-philosophical? Well, that is exactly what I am aiming at. But in my defence, metaphors can mess with your head and I am evil.
All this over a rubber band? It is not the sugar talking, I promise!
What pseudo-intellectualism, using inanimate everyday objects metaphorically in a bid to be semi-philosophical? Well, that is exactly what I am aiming at. But in my defence, metaphors can mess with your head and I am evil.
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